The tale of the departure of Lord Krishna from the mortal world is one of the most poignant chapters in the history of Hindu mythology, marking not just the end of a divine incarnation but the transition between two great cosmic eras, the Dwapara Yuga and the Kali Yuga. This sequence of events began long before the actual moment of the arrow's flight, rooted deeply in the aftermath of the great Kurukshetra War. Following the total destruction of the Kaurava army, the grieving Queen Gandhari, mother of the fallen Kauravas, looked upon the battlefield and saw the devastating toll of the conflict. In her profound sorrow and rage, she turned to Krishna, whom she believed could have prevented the slaughter through his divine influence. She cast a powerful curse upon him, declaring that thirty-six years from that day, Krishna himself would perish in a lonely state and his entire clan, the Yadavas, would be destroyed in a similar fratricidal struggle.
Krishna, accepting the curse with a calm smile, understood that the time for his earthly mission was drawing to a close. As the decades passed, the city of Dwarka, his magnificent island capital, flourished with unprecedented wealth and power. However, with this prosperity came a creeping sense of arrogance and lawlessness among the Yadava youth. The divine protection that once kept the clan virtuous began to wane as destiny moved toward the fulfillment of Gandhari's words. The specific catalyst for the downfall arrived when a group of Yadava princes, including Krishna's son Samba, decided to play a disrespectful prank on a group of visiting sages, including Vishwamitra and Durvasa. Samba dressed as a pregnant woman and asked the sages to predict the gender of the child. Infuriated by the mockery, the sages cursed Samba, stating that he would give birth to an iron bolt (Musala) that would be the instrument of the entire clan's destruction.
In terror, the Yadavas found that an iron bolt did indeed emerge from Samba. King Ugrasena ordered the bolt to be ground into a fine powder and thrown into the Arabian Sea to prevent the curse from taking root. However, one small triangular piece of the iron bolt proved too hard to grind and was cast into the waves whole. Over time, the fine powder washed back onto the shores of Prabhas Patan, where it grew into a specialized type of tall, sharp-bladed grass known as eraka. The small triangular piece that was thrown into the sea was swallowed by a fish, which was eventually caught by a hunter named Jara. Jara found the metallic fragment in the fish's belly and, recognizing its sharpness and strength, fashioned it into a lethal arrowhead.
As the thirty-sixth year approached, Dwarka was plagued by dark omens. Strong winds howled through the streets, the Sudarshana Chakra departed from Krishna’s hand to return to the heavens, and the celestial standards fell. Realizing that the end was near, Krishna advised the Yadavas to go on a pilgrimage to the sacred shores of Prabhas Patan to purify themselves. Upon arriving at the coast, however, the Yadavas engaged in a massive celebratory feast. Inebriated by wine and fueled by old rivalries and the weight of the curse, an argument broke out between the warriors. When they reached for their weapons, they found only the tall eraka grass growing on the shore. As soon as they plucked the blades, the grass transformed back into iron rods, infused with the power of the original cursed bolt. A chaotic and bloody massacre ensued, where brothers killed brothers and fathers killed sons until the entire Yadava army was decimated. Only Krishna, his brother Balarama, and a few others survived the initial carnage.
Witnessing the total destruction of his lineage, Balarama sat down in deep meditation by the sea. As Krishna watched, a great white serpent—the spirit of Ananta Shesha—emerged from Balarama's mouth and returned to the ocean, signaling the end of Balarama’s earthly presence. Krishna, now completely alone and having fulfilled his duties, walked toward the dense forests of Bhalka. He sat down under a large pipal tree (Ficus religiosa) and leaned against its trunk, crossing his legs. He entered a state of deep Yoga-nidra, reflecting on the cycle of time. His left foot, which bore the auspicious marks of a divine being, was exposed. From a distance, the reddish hue of his sole and the position of his foot through the thick foliage made it appear to be the twitching ear or the face of a deer to a hunter.
Jara, the hunter who had fashioned his arrow from the cursed iron fragment, was stalking game in the forest. Seeing what he believed was a deer, he aimed his bow with precision and let fly the arrow. The projectile, tipped with the very metal born of the sages' curse, struck Krishna in the heel—the only vulnerable spot on his body. Hearing a cry that sounded human rather than animal, Jara rushed to the spot and was horrified to find that he had shot the Supreme Lord. Overcome with grief and remorse, Jara fell at Krishna’s feet, begging for death and forgiveness. He could not understand how he, a simple hunter, could have committed such a catastrophic mistake against the savior of the world.